


Governor Dear

by Bard_of_Heart



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, I know nothing about politics don't judge me, M/M, Politics, Presidential Election, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:45:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bard_of_Heart/pseuds/Bard_of_Heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Governor Dear, or Governor Dave Strider's quest to avoid appointments, tie his tie correctly, write a decent speech, and also to be elected President of the United States. Also Senator Karkat Vantas' attempts to keep Dave Strider alive long enough to get elected, fight a terrible crush on said Governor, and to be elected Vice President.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Governor Dear

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the Strider-Vantas 2012 contest! It was really rushed, seeing as the contest is very nearly over, but I couldn't resist participating! ....Apparently this fic won the fic portion of the contest!

“You’ve got a meeting with the Senator from Washington State at 11:00,” Rose warns you, as Karkat slips past you into your office.

“Yeah, okay, thanks Lalonde.”

“And we’re meeting with the press at 3:00 p.m. sharp.”

“Great, thanks.”

She sighs. “Don’t be late.”

“I make no promises.” You shut the door in her face.

Karkat sighs from across the room. He’s seated on the couch you keep in here for emergencies. Sometimes, when you’re really stressed out, you just collapse on that coach and catnap until Rose has to barge in and wake you up. “You have got to stop being such an asshole. I swear to god, if this campaign fails, it will have nothing to do with me.”

“Relax Karkat. Rose is a loyal supporter of our cause.”

“I’m not questioning her loyalty. I’m critiquing your behavior. The Senator’s still undecided at this point, as far as the press in concerned. If you can sway him, it’ll mean we’re guaranteed all of the west coast.”

“Who, John? Karkat, the media is on drugs if it thinks there’s still a chance John will vote for anyone else. We’ve known each other since we were just starting out in politics.”

“I know shitheel, the whole country knows. The media went crazy about how you were childhood friends, and half the country was convinced you were going to pick him as your running mate. For some ungodly reason, you chose me, because obviously you have a death wish. I’m pretty sure he hates my guts.”

You laugh. “Do you even know John? Yeah, he’s certainly no spring tulip or whatever the hell, but he’s the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet in politics. He doesn’t hold grudges. Besides, we still need a Secretary of State.”

Karkat sighs, getting up from the couch to straighten your tie. “You’re running for President, and you still don’t know how to tie a god damn tie.”

You grin. “What if I do it on purpose to get close to you? I kind of like it when you tie my tie.”

Karkat rolls his eyes, and finishes. “There. Try to keep yourself presentable. God knows Kanaya has enough work to do on you already.”

“Hey now, are you saying I’m unattractive?”

“I’m saying you somehow manage to wrinkle every suit you own in five seconds flat, have your tie come undone in two, and god help the poor sucker who’s standing in front of you when you trip over your shoelaces, Governor. That’s not even including the makeup.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Hey now, we both know I look good in a suit. Even a wrinkled one.”

He snorts. “I’m not in the business of inflating your ego, Strider.”

This close, you can smell the cologne he’s always wearing. You have to force yourself not to shudder.

“You look tired,” he says, fretting like a mother hen as always. “I’ll take your chair at the desk, you take the couch. You might as well take a nap it’s only ten; Kanaya will end up restyling your hair anyway.”

He isn’t wrong. You’re kind of lacking in the sleep department right now. You’ve been up since three in the morning, writing and editing the speech you’re going to give to the press. That means you only got around two and a half hours of sleep last night, ugh. You and Karkat both insist on writing your own speeches. You’ll have a speech writer look over it and make suggestions, but for the most part, both of you are pretty picky about what comes out of your mouths. After Karkat broke off in a middle of a speech to say “this script is absolutely terrible,” tore up the script on camera, and then continued, making it up as he went along, no one has been stupid enough to try to get the both of you to read their script.

You nod in acknowledgment and acceptance, and he moves away from you so he can sit behind your desk, and you can make yourself comfortable on the couch. Before long, you’ve fallen into a doze, but you can’t quite get to sleep. You’ve always had trouble falling asleep, ever since you were little, but now that you’ve started campaigning in earnest, despite the fact that sleep is hard to come by as it is, you can’t seem to relax. There’s too much to accomplish before voting starts.

You would guess it’s been about twenty minutes since you closed your eyes when you hear the soft sound of Karkat walking over. He was carrying your desk chair with him, because you can hear him set it down near you and sit in it. He sighs, quietly, and shifts in his seat. You almost want to open your eyes and ask him what’s up, but you figure he probably wouldn’t appreciate the fact that you haven’t been asleep all this while. You’re glad for your patience when he clears his throat and says softly, “You’ll do fine, Dave. I know you will. If anyone deserves to be President, it’s you.”

You realize he thinks you’re asleep, right before he leans down to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be here to keep you from sleeping too long, so just chill out for once in your life. You call me a worrywart, but you’re just as bad as I am.”

You slip up and your mouth twitches a little at the corner, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. “It’s not my fault if you don’t wake up right away and make us late, dickbrain.” There’s the soft touch of his thumb, stroking your cheek. “You’re the one who stayed up late and then insisted on getting up early to work on that shitty speech of yours.” He pauses, and then admits, “Okay, your speeches are pretty good. I hope you don’t mind if I take a look at it, maybe make a few suggestions.”

He stands, and you want desperately to tell him to stay, but you hear the sound of ruffling papers from your desk, him collecting your paper, and then your office door closes.

You lay there awake for a while, but when you do sleep, you dream, dream of Karkat’s soft voice, of his cologne, and his gentle kiss to your forehead.


End file.
